It's What Makes Me, Me

I spent the most of the night at Charlie's with the guys only getting back at one. Locking the door quietly, I crept towards my room, making it without waking my grandparents. Inside my room was delicately painted with light green swirls on top of a white base coat, I had a varnished oak floor with a large green fluffy rug. My four poster bed had silk sheets and green netting surrounding it; I decorated my own room, well picked out the colour scheme and furniture.
The next morning I was interrogated, what had I done wrong? Showing them my sketchbook with drawings of superheroes and villains, comic book characters and cartoons, unknown to them I had done them along time ago, but what you don't know can't hurt you, right? My grandparents failed to bring up the subject they knew I had heard about and changed subject. 'There's a letter here for you' my grandmother said with distaste. I ran to my room, the crumpled white envelope in hand.
The letter was from London, who was it from? None of my relatives in London had contacted, ever. We had once lived in London but I hadn't been there for months since my father’s conviction.
Sliding my finger in, tearing the edges of the paper it revealed another envelope and a sheet of paper. Pulling out the paper first, my breath caught at the back of my throat. Big, bold black letters began to blur as tears fell from my eyes 'Only deliver when both parents are dead', I didn't know what would be inside the envelope now.